


Worst Impressions are the First

by Khadijalkubra



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polysanders - Freeform, Role Reversal, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, athlete Virgil, emo Patton, geek Roman, one fight scene, pastel Logan, romantic lamp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadijalkubra/pseuds/Khadijalkubra
Summary: In a Soulmate AU where the first thing your soulmate(s) thought when they saw you shows up written on your body, four very different high school students are used to being taken as they appear to be: the jock, the geek, the pastel boy, and the brooding emo kid. Yet there is so much more to them than just first impressions. For Virgil, Roman, Logan and Patton, all they have to comfort them during high school-a time where images are everything-are the words on their skin. Their soul tattoos reassure them that someone out there sees them for what’s beyond the surface. It may take finding their unknown soulmate(s) to help them feel less alone in a world that has always judged them so quickly. That is, if they can learn to see past each other’s preconceived stereotypes first.





	1. Chapter 1 - POV Logan

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting chapters as often as my grad school schedule allows me to. Rest assured I will do my best to make sure not too much time passes between each post. As always any comments or helpful writing critiques are welcome. Hope you all enjoy!

“Better watch where you’re going _lady_.”

A member of the wrestling team shouted this at Logan after ‘accidentally’ bumping into him hard enough to make him drop his books.

“ _Troglodyte,_ ” Logan mumbled as they walked by, rubbing his arm, which had started to tingle. Likely from the rough impact.

“What was that?” Another athlete asked.

“Apologies…” Logan was no fighter. And starting conflict with a jock that had five or six other teammates with him was asking for trouble.

The wrestler sneered at him and continued down the hall with the rest of his pack in tow, leaving Logan to pick up his belongings.

Logan despised jocks. Ordinarily he tried his best to steer clear of stereotypes towards other people, but sometimes they were just too on the mark, and in his experience all jocks were either bullies or buffoons. Sometimes both. And South Bay High School seemed to have a mixed bag of such sports inclined youth who took joy in belittling those deemed weak or odd by themselves in their spare time between classes; Clearly an attempt to compensate for something.

As Logan picked up his papers, a shadow fell over him.

“Sorry,” it muttered.

The voice belonged to Virgil Alighieri, well-known multi-sportsman of the school. His letterman jacket displayed patches for the wrestling, track and swimming team. Logan immediately disliked him. Yet he couldn’t help feeling pleasantly surprised when Virgil’s tall frame knelt down and began helping to pick up Logan’s books.

“Sorry ‘bout them…they uh…I mean…they just…y’know they’re…m’sorry.” Virgil said, handing Logan back his Chemistry textbook, eyes averted.

 _Not the most eloquent guy_ , Logan thought, _but at least he has some manners._ He also cut a pretty attractive figure. All those physical activities left the fidgeting teenager before him with lean muscles that peaked out from Virgil’s opened letterman jacket. He also had good bone structure and skin, despite the bags under his eyes, broad shoulders, and his dark hair fell into a swoop that just barely obscured his view and made him look ‘cool.’ Even his dark purple sneakers were admittedly stylish. All around, he was aesthetically pleasing for a jock. Not that Logan would ever admit that aloud.

“Yes, well, I must be getting to class now.” Logan quickly got up and was about to leave, but turned back at the last second. “That was decent of you.”

Virgil looked about to say something, but was called back loudly by his pack mates in wrestling. Then he left without a word back to his laughing friends. Typical.

 _They laugh because they envy your confidence_. Logan told himself this repeatedly until he believed it again. For each time he was pestered for answers to tests he refused to give, teased for his glasses, shoved into lockers for his academic prowess, and especially mocked for his choice in attire. Because although clothing doesn’t have a gender, evidently enjoying pastel colors and flowy garments traditionally deemed feminine warrants being called _lady_ or _pussy_ or other such terms in a derogatory tone. Today Logan was sporting a knee length peach skirt with mint green flower patterns, a baby blue blouse that tied into a tasteful bow at the neck, and of course his mother’s monarch hairpin to keep the bangs out of his eyes. Such clothing was soothing, comfortable and made Logan happy. Especially when he put them together in nature or space themes. He had enough confidence and self love as a man to wear such things proudly. If those meatheads couldn’t appreciate that, it was their prerogative.

…That doesn’t mean the bullying didn’t get to him sometimes. And it wasn’t just the jocks. Other members of the student body gave Logan odd looks, choosing to judge him for that rather than take him seriously for his outstanding academics or sharp mind. And being openly gay probably didn’t help his ‘image’ either. Everyone at school saw him as a joke. Logan hated that more than anything.

Well…not everyone.

Logan knew that there was someone in this school who took him seriously. One person who didn’t look at him with mockery, but instead saw him as a thing of beauty; Logan’s soulmate. And he knew they went to South Bay High because the writing on his arm, the first thoughts of his soul mate upon being seen by them for the first time, appeared on his inner forearm last semester. True he hadn’t found out who they were yet, but it was a small school, so it was only logical they’d cross paths again at some point.

Normally he was not the type to waste his precious grey-matter on frivolous notions as true love and casual romance, but when that tattoo appeared on his skin it…comforted him. Gave him reassurance that someone out there, platonically or romantically, was meant to stand beside him with love and pride. Any time Logan felt low or frustrated, he would look upon those light blue letters and find comfort in them: _'the promise of spring after a heartless winter.'_ That was how someone saw him, as someone beautiful and full of promise.

He’d looked at those first impression words so often they were engrained in his memory. Still, he could use the cheering up right about now, so Logan rolled up the sleeve of his blouse. Logan’s lip dropped. Now there was not one soul tattoo but _two_! In purple letters beneath the blue tattoo it read, _‘oh wow he’s pretty. wait, don’t stare you idiot!’_ It wasn’t just the fact that Logan apparently had more than one soulmate, an uncommon but not unheard of thing. It was the fact that this hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. That meant he was spotted by his new soulmate only moments ago. Which only meant one thing.

“I have a jock for a soulmate,” Logan groaned.

And he had no idea which one of them it could be.


	2. Chapter 2 - POV Patton

_Yet the echoes in the dark whisper, ‘I’m lost too.’_

_Thus, I can believe in the existence of light,_

_and that someday I might_

_reach it with you. …No, no. That’s lame!_

Patton scribbled out the lines of his newest poem he’d been working on. Lately he’d been in the mood to write a love poem with a theme of hopefulness found in companionship as we trudged through the uncertainty of life. Yet it kept coming out as either too dark or just plain trite. Not that his writing and artwork didn’t tend to be on the dark side in general. He’d always been drawn to things that were slightly dark and strange. There was a deep beauty to them that most folks didn’t see, and that was often misunderstood. Patton knew how that felt…

That’s why he looked up to artists like Poe, Plath, Cummings, Dickinson and many more like them. It’s what got him into writing in the first place. They didn’t sugar coat the pain of existence or mental illness. Yet somehow they still dug deep into the muck of their pain and pulled out blossoms of beauty. Their words helped Patton get through his bouts of depression, encouraged him to keep getting better and better, day-by-day. That and being put on a medication that actually worked for him. Having a therapist for a godfather was helpful too. Emile had even gifted Patton his first writing journal. 

Still, they were like a lighthouse shining through the foggy seas of his mental illness, and Patton hoped that someday his writing would be a guiding hopeful light for other lost souls too. The thought made his heart feel like a thousand bubbles blown into butterflies from the salty waters of his past tears.

 _Say, that’s pretty good!_ Patton thought as he made his way to Chemistry Class. _I’ll have to write that down for later so I don’t forget._

“Oof!”

Patton hadn’t been paying attention and accidentally walked into a girl, causing her to drop her books. 

“Shoot,” she said, bending down.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, stupid me. I wasn’t watching myself.” Patton immediately dropped down too the ground. “Here, let me help you.”

“Oh uh, that’s okay,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure? It really was an accident.” He held out the glittery notebook to her. “Gravity can be the worst enemy some days.” 

Patton tried to give her his best smile, like the kind he saw in old family photos of himself when he was little. He liked to think at heart he was still that bright sunshiny boy, but the girl only shook her head at him. Guess his grin was more off-putting than endearing despite his kind intentions. 

“Really, it was my fault. I uh, have to get to class.”

The girl snatched back her notebook and quickly scurried away from Patton. The black clad boy sighed forlornly. He should be used to this by now.

As he weaved through the crowded hallways, his writing journal clutched to his chest, Patton could practically feel the odd or intimidated eyes of the students around him. He caught whispers of _‘here comes the dark cloud’_ or _‘emo kid’_ and _‘he’s so creepy.’_ Last semester, everyone thought Patton was dressed for a funeral. Patton pulled his large headphones from out of his backpack and put them on, letting Story of the Year block out the world around him.

He couldn’t really blame them for making assumptions. Sure it was a little mean of all the kids to judge him so harshly before getting to know him, but it’s not like he didn’t choose to wear dark clothes all the time. Like his favorite comfy black jeans, now frayed at the knees from being worn so often, even when working in his rose garden at home. Or for his Evanescence shirt he got from a concert years ago on his birthday. And he supposed his black Goodwill combat boots were maybe a little bit intimidating as he trudged through the halls. And okay, his jokes could be a little dark and dry for some people, even if he sometime tried to phrase them as puns so they’d be more appealing. It still hurt though.

Patton timidly tugged at the brim of his black cat ear beanie as he walked past a group of jocks leaning against the lockers. Some of them, like Virgil Alighiri or Remy Dormier could be nice. The rest of them, not so much. One of them broke his reading glasses and he’d had to buy new ones. He’s accepted long ago that the kids in this school were going to judge him for his looks no matter what.

Well…not all the kids.

He didn’t dare roll up the long sleeve of his grey & black striped shirt, too self-conscious about the scars on his inner arm, but Patton knew it was there. The tattoo of his soul mate’s first thoughts upon seeing him, written in pretty purple: _‘Woah his eyes are gorgeous. uh-oh, quit staring you idiot!’_

Patton chuckled to himself as he walked into the classroom and took his seat near the window. Not the most eloquent thought but it had been enough to make Patton stare at himself in the bathroom mirror, take a newer look at the sky blue eyes hidden beneath the fringe of his curly hair and think yeah, maybe they were pretty.

He only wished that he’d seen the soulmark earlier that fateful day last semester. Then maybe he’d have a better idea of who his mystery soulmate was.

Secretly, he hoped it was his longtime unrequited crush: Logan Berry. The smartest, loveliest, most confident boy in the entire school! Patton had been hopelessly bewitched by Logan ever since he first set eyes upon the flower and pastel clad man freshman year. He looked like the vibrant promise of spring after a grey heartless winter. Patton sighed aloud at the memory. Not that the debate club president had ever noticed his gloomy self. Yet he couldn’t help hoping like he always did that the soulmark tattoo had been Logan’s thoughts; that maybe the brilliant beauty saw beneath Patton’s emo surface and into his soul. _Well, whoever my soulmate is,_ Patton though, _I just know they have a kind and beautiful heart._

If only they wouldn’t call themselves an idiot. There was only room for one self-deprecating soulmate in this school.

Soon the rest of the students had filed into their seats and Mr. Sanders was speed walking in just as the period bell sounded off.

“Afternoon class, sorry I’m a little frazzled. I had to take my dog Tony to the vet before school,” he said. Then he wrote some notes up on the board. “So this week we’re going to be studying different forms of energy, starting with thermal. For this you’re going to be partnered up into groups of two. And to make sure it’s fair, _I’ll_ be choosing your partners for you.” 

The class audibly groaned. Meanwhile Patton half paid attention, half doodled a picture of a cat on the margin of his notebook.

“Oh now don’t give me that. Take this as an opportunity to make a new friend.” Mr. Sanders took out a clipboard form his desk. “Now when I call your names, just move your seating arrangements together.”

Patton continued to doodle, tuning the teacher out until he heard his own name as well as another student’s.

“Patton Hart and Roman Prince,” said Mr. Sanders.

Patton looked up and two seats ahead of him at a short boy with wavy brown hair, olive skin and large red framed glasses that he’d never noticed before. Which was a bit surprising given that his sweater vest in various patterns and shades of red made the guy stand out like a bleeding thumb.      

Roman turned around to see who his new chemistry partner would be, wearing a dazzling albeit dorky smile. _Should I tell him he has spinach in his teeth?_ Patton wondered. When the kid saw his new partner was however, the smile quickly dropped into a look of scrutiny. _Not again._

Still, Patton decided to try and meet him halfway. Better to be the bigger person after all, right? So he ambled over to the now empty chair and tried to give Roman his best smile, but it still felt forced.

“Hey there,” said Patton. 

“Hello,” said Roman.

Several moments of awkward silence went by. As everyone around them shuffled around notebooks, beakers, and lab goggles pre-set on the tables, Patton suddenly felt a warm tingle beneath the skin on his arm. _Was that_ …?

“So!” Roman said, rubbing his arm. His voice cracked a bit, clearly still going through puberty. “I uh, guess we should start rolling up our sleeves and get to work?”

“That works for me,” said Patton.

They each put on a pair of goggles and cuffed their shirtsleeves. That’s when Patton saw it. Just the last word of a sentence peeking out (he really didn’t like having his arms completely bare), but there it was: A new soulmark tattoo in vibrant red ink. Suddenly he heard a gasp from Roman.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“I HAVE ONE!” Roman shouted, visibly (adorably) excited.

“Roman, inside voice,” said Mr. Sanders from the front. 

Roman slumped into his seat, all evidence of the boisterous excitement he’d just shown dampened into timidity. For some reason it made Patton sad to see. 

“Sorry Mr. Sanders,” Roman said meekly. “Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, their teacher gave a nod and continued explaining the parameters of their experiment. Patton however, was not satisfied just yet.

“What do you have that’s got you so excited?” asked Patton.

At first Roman seemed unsure whether or not to say. But then he discreetly scooted closer to Patton’s seat and showed him his inner forearm, the button up sleeve rolled to the elbow. What Patton saw made him gasp. Written in sky blue ink was a soulmark tattoo, the words reading _‘should I tell him he has spinach in his teeth?’_ Patton looked up at Roman, who was once again grinning, with a newfound awe. 

“I have a _soulmate!_ ” Roman whispered excitedly, his eyes shining. “Mind you, spinach in my teeth isn’t what I’d dreamt my soulmate’s first thoughts of me would be about,” he ducked his head to clean his teeth, “but still. I _have one!_ And they MUST be in this room because I _just_ got this. Who knew it would tingle so much? Um, why are you staring at me?”

“I…those words are…um…”

He hesitated for a moment, but then Patton rolled up his own sleeve all the way now. He leaned in towards Roman and showed him, hoping the other would ignore the tally marks of scars. Now he too could actually read the whole sentence. _‘Edgar Allen Woe much?’_ it read in red ink. The two teenagers looked at each other’s arms, then at their own arms, and then back up at each other’s faces. Patton tried to hide the hurt on his face but clearly wasn’t successful. Roman cleaned his glasses on his sweater vest and smiled weakly at his lab partner/soulmate. 

“If it’s any consolation, I think his work is brilliant, if a bit depressing.”

“Mm.”

“So um…I guess we should probably talk about this, huh.”

“I’d like that.”

“Do you have lunch next period?”

“I do.”

“Great. We can uh, talk then. If you want.”

“I’d like that… _soulmate_.”

At this Roman gave a small smile. Then he and Patton actually got started on their class assignment. Patton had a tough time paying attention though, his thoughts racing with this newfound knowledge. Not only did he still not know the identity of his first soulmate, but now apparently he had more than one!? And honestly…Patton wasn’t sure yet how to feel about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy to see that everyone is enjoying this story so far. It truly means a lot seeing all your kind words and messages.


	3. Chapter 3 - POV Roman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from a cloud of smoke & ashes a-la-Mushu style* I LIIIIIIVE!  
> I know, i know. It's been forever and a day, and i REALLY do apologize for that! The end of the semester and a 17-20 page critical thesis paper kind of took over my life and made me put the fanfic writing on the back-burner for a while. And then I was hit with a wave of writers block and other life stuff, so, yeah. But I am back in the swing of things now, and will happily (hopefully) be updating if not regularly then at least with far less time in between updates. Also you might notice i've gone back and tweaked a few little inconsistencies I noticed in the previous chapters. Nothing major. And yes, i'm aware this chapter is a bit longer than the others have been so far. it kinda got away from me! hehe  
> Alright, enough of me jabbering. On to more of the disaster gay slowburn!

_Well this is awkward_ , Roman thought, munching on his second egg salad sandwich. Sitting across from him was his ~~classmate~~ ~~resident-dark-cloud~~ soulmate. He was poking a fork at the contents of his Tupperware. Roman fleetingly wondered if it was eye of newt. _No wait, he’s just eating some pasta._

           

While the rest of the SBH student body sat with their respective cliques, lunch ladies ladled out the daily variety of grease to those who didn’t brown bag it, and the cacophony of teenage drabble bobbled through the air, here they were sitting in silence so uncomfortable it was almost palpable. What’s worse was that they were the only two people at the table, so Roman couldn’t even take a break from the tension by jumping into another conversation. Not that he talked much to anyone outside of his tech crew buddies.

 

 _Come on Roman, you were the one who insisted on talking in the first place._ It didn’t exactly help that Patton seemed like the kind of person that probably hung out in cemeteries for fun. _So_ creepy! Yet _somehow_ he was Roman’s soulmate, the person that he’d been waiting for forever. Or at least since he was first taught about soulmarks in First Grade. This was the person who at the least would be his best friend for life or at best his romantic beloved for all of time _._  Still, he had to at least give him a chance, or just, say something. Anything.

 

“Soooo, um, how’d you get those scars on your arm?” he asked.

 

Patton winced, eyes averted. _Anything but THAT you awkward fool!_

“I’m sorry! That was a stupid personal question. I shouldn’t have— I’ll uh, just stop talking now,” he mumbled, heat radiating in his ears. Roman could have smacked himself in the head, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

 

Patton tugged at the end of his sleeve and sighed. “No, it’s okay. Well no, it’s not okay, I guess…but I suppose since we’re soulmates,” _That’s still so weird to hear_ , “you may as well know.”

 

“Really, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” said Roman, pushing up his large red glasses. “I haven’t earned such a personal story from you.”

 

Patton set down his fork and rubbed his arm. “To be honest, you’re the first person that’s ever asked me about anything having to do with my personal life. Most people are too scared to say more than ‘hi.’ And it’d be nice to share this with someone.”

 

Roman felt both touched and a little bit heartbroken upon hearing this. As much of an introvert as he could be Roman did have the occasional casual conversation with classmates, plus his friends from drama club. Even the school’s pothead Declan could be spotted hanging out with his small crew or swim team captain soulmate in the halls. Did Patton have _any_ friends?

 

“I’m honored. Truly. And if you only want to keep this between us, I swear on my collection of Sondheim lyrics that your story is safe with me.” He wasn’t sure, but Roman could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a blush on Count Woelaf’s freckled face.

 

Patton fidgeted with his own classes and took another breath before rolling up the sleeves on his arms. There were shallow scar lines all along his inner forearms, some of which went almost to the elbow bend. On one arm Roman saw the soul mark with his own first thoughts of Patton tattooed in red. …Along with another separate sentence in purple ink. _Wait, he has TWO soulmates!? That’s a thing? Okay, definitely asking about that later. Now’s not the time, Roman._ He took another bite of his lunch and listened.

 

“There’s not much of a story behind them honestly,” said Patton. “Classic case of depression, officially diagnosed at thirteen…I guess you could say I’ve got some pretty mean demons in my head and, well, sometimes they would get so loud that the only thing that could distract me enough was…feeling something stronger.”

 

Okay, Roman _definitely_ felt his heart crack that time. “Do you still…”

 

“Oh, no! I’m on the right type of pills for me now and they help a lot. I still have bad days but they’re much more manageable. And even when _that_ feeling happens when the demons get too loud, I doodle or write haikus on my arms instead. My godfather Emile, who’s a therapist, he gave me the idea.”

 

“That’s pretty clever. So you’re a writer then?”

 

“Yep. Poetry mostly. Writing and reading poetry has gotten me through some of my roughest days. Helped me feel a little less alone. Now all I dream to do is give that back to someone else.”

 

Roman smiled. “That’s incredibly altruistic of you Pat.”

 

“Thanks Roman. That means a lot to me,” he said with a humble smile.

 

Roman was beginning to realize that beneath all those layers of black, there was a deep gentleness to Patton. Roman wanted to see more of it.

 

“Of course. And I’ve no doubt you’ll achieve your dream and inspire thousands!” Roman said, much louder than intended.

 

Two teens from the table in front of then turned their heads to him, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. _Stupid overexcitement. Nothing to see here folks, go back to your lunches._ Roman cleared his throat.

“Do you, um, also like reading or writing prose? Plays?”

 

“No. I do like reading them. Especially Shakespeare. Hamlet’s my favorite by him.”

 

Roman couldn’t help it. He perked up like a cat in a fish factory. “I love Shakespeare too, and Hamlet’s my second favorite play of all time! My first being Angels in America because hello? Brilliant! Not to mention the incredible production value potential. It’s like every set and prop designer’s playground. But getting back to Shakespeare, as much of an iconic masterpiece as Hamlet is, the Tempest has the most consistent writing by far, although I’d LOVE to get my hands on set designs for A Midsummer Ni—“

 

He only now realized he was halfway out of his seat, and his voice had gotten overdramatic again. He immediately sat back down. _Curse my naturally loud vocal chords! I really hope that no one else heard me nerd ranting._ Roman hated being put on the spot and stared at. He was much more comfortable behind the scenes. It drew less attention, particularly from bullies. _As if I wasn’t seen as a weak gay geek in this school already. And I haven’t even officially come out yet!_

 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, voice cracking. _Darn you puberty._ “I uh, tend to get a bit overexcited when I start talking about things I’m interested in.”

 

“Don’t ever apologize for that!” Patton said so intensely it shocked Roman a little. “Your passion is like a…a burning nova just before it dies out; bright and all consuming. I _love_ that I’m lucky enough to get to see it.”

 

Roman’s face was as red as his glasses. _Could I get any gayer,_ he thought, gulping. “Wow, you really are quite the poet, aren’t you?”

 

“And you didn’t even know it.” Patton said.

 

Roman chuckled. “I’d love to read some of your work one of these days. If you’re okay with it.”

 

“Yeah, maybe. I should warn you, my poems can be a bit on the gloomy goober side,” Patton said giggling bashfully. _Okay that was adorable._ “Guess I really am a bit ‘Edgar Allen Woe’ sometimes.”

 

Roman winced. Right. He had thought that about Patton. He looked again at the ugly red thought that now permanently marked his soulmate’s skin, and shame filled his whole chest.

 

“I never should have thought that about you,” Roman said. “I always hoped my first thoughts upon seeing my soulmate would be more, I don’t know, romantic? Or at least somewhat flattering. Instead my thoughts were cruel. I’m so sorry Patton.”

 

When he looked up, Patton was smiling softly. Behind the glasses and curly fringe, Patton’s sky blue eyes— _dear Zeus his eyes are gorgeous_ —were filled with nothing but compassion. He was even more shocked when Patton reached across their table and took Roman’s own calloused hand in his.

 

“It’s okay Ro. It was a pretty _Poe_ judgment of character on your part, but I’m sure it’ll happen _Nevermore_.” Patton said.

 

That got a snort out of Roman. “Did you just make not one but _two_ puns, Mr. Poet & the Pendulum?”

 

“I guess you could call me the Tell Tale _Hart!_ ” They both laughed out loud.

 

Patton completely transformed before Roman’s eyes. The emo’s whole face opened up like a lotus to the sun, and even the air around him seemed to just brighten up. His laugh was so warm and friendly. Roman couldn’t believe it had been hidden inside of him this whole time. For a moment Roman even forgot about whether or not anyone else was staring at them.

 

That is until he felt a small object plonk off the back of his head.

It didn’t hurt, just caught him by surprise.

 

Roman turned around and saw that the projectile (a french fry apparently) came from the designated jock table. The fry yeeter in question was Seb Tember, captain of the South Bay High wrestling team. He was sitting with the other jocks that had this lunch period. Roman groaned. _Not this again._ The whole jock table laughed along with Seb as he flicked more fries at Roman’s head.

 

Well…not all of them.

 

The tall dark eyed track star Virgil was the only one that didn’t join in the cajoling. Then again, he didn’t exactly tell his friends to stop it either. Roman never quite knew what to make of Virgil. Sure he was super cute, moderately popular, and never directly picked on Roman. Yet there was this intense energy he gave off that put Roman on edge. Like one wrong move could set him off or something.

 

And said ticking time bomb was looking back at him VERY intensely. _Oh gosh, Virgil Alighieri is staring at me, oh please don't want to beat my face up!_ Roman quickly turned back around.

 

“ _Gaaayyyy!_ ” Seb crooned, throwing another fry at Roman.

 

Well he wasn’t wrong, but why did he have to say it like _that_? As if it was wrong to be gay, which it wasn’t. Plus, Roman was positive that he could’ve picked out at least ONE gay men among their pack.

 

“Just ignore them Roman,” said Patton, passing him a napkin.

 

“That’s been my tactic so far,” said Roman as he wiped the ketchup off his favorite red and gold sweater vest.

 

It was the coward’s way, sure, but at least it kept him safe. Didn’t mean he liked it. Not for the first time, Roman wished that he could truly embody his last name. Be a strong brave prince who confidently stood up to villainous curs like Seb.

Or at least taller.

 

The tingling on his arm was back. _That’s odd. Is that supposed to happen more than once? Or could it be…_ Roman rolled up his sleeve and yes! There it was! Another soulmark right beneath Patton’s in beautiful purple ink: _‘Gosh, he looks like a Disney Prince behind those glasses. Shit, you’re staring again you idiot!’_

Roman had never felt so happy.

 

“Roman are you okay? You’re crying! Did they hurt you?” asked frantic Patton, bringing Roman back to the present.

 

Roman touched his cheek and yes, he was crying. He wiped his eyes and cleaned the teardrops off his glasses lens.

 

“Look,” he said, holding his arm out towards a confused Patton. His cheeks hurt, he was grinning so hard. “I have _another_ soulmate, just like you! I didn’t even know that it _was_ possible to have more than one soulmate. I mean I guess it’s not impossible, polyamory is a thing, and QPRs. Like, maybe they covered it in First Grade, but I only really paid attention to the basics, to be honest. I still can’t believe I could be so lucky; this is the best day EVER. And look, they even think I look like a _Disney Prince_! Can you beli— uhhh Pat, why are you gawking at me like that? Don’t tell me I have something in my teeth again.”

 

Patton didn’t say anything. He merely held out his own thought tattoo covered arm next to his own. Roman looked at the two side by side and finally, he got it. He looked back up at Patton, mouth agape.

 

“Same purple ink…” said Roman.

 

“…Same self deprecating thought at the end,” said Patton.

 

Roman didn’t know who or where in this cafeteria they could be, but there was no doubt about it: He and Patton shared a soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments, it truly means a lot to me! if you'd like, you can also check out my posts on tumblr as well. ^_^


	4. Chapter 4 - POV Virgil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Climbs out of the rubble of my personal life, coughing, and cleans the dust from my glasses* Yes. I know. It's been a WHILE. And I do very much apologize for that. All I can say is that family stuff and a bout of bad mental health do NOT mix. That said, I am back in the groove and am so very glad to have a new chapter out. (let me tell you, this one was a doozie). I hope you all enjoy, because after this point is where the boys start interacting more, and then the REAL fun can begin! >w<

The shrill school bell signaled the end of lunch period.

“Come on Virge, one last class before swim practice,” said Seb. “Then home free.”

“I’m coming,” he said.

“Hey, you good man?” asked Mike. “You’re looking a little out of it.”

“Yeah I uh, just didn’t get much sleep. Insomnia, y’know?”

“Right. Mental heath stuff. That’s rough buddy,” said Mike, dunking his tray of leftovers into the trash, looking away from Virgil.

“Maybe you should get some sleeping pills or something. You’re starting to look kinda racooon-y around the eyes,” said Seb.

“Pfff good one,” Mike laughed.

Virgil shrugged into his large letterman jacket. _So much for the cover up._ Jericho playfully nudged him with his elbow, beaming big.

“Look on the bright side. Not sleeping means more time to binge those conspiracy videos you like,” said Jericho. “You’ll be better prepared than the rest of us when the country storms Area 51. They can’t stop us all!”

“Heh, yeah. Silver linings,” said Virgil with a smirk.

He was used to this. Sometimes his teammates didn’t know how to handle his mental health issues. First time he ever had a panic attack before a wrestling match, they were too scared to touch him, like they might set off a bomb or something. Still, they at least made the effort to try being there for him, even if that just meant making him laugh.

He took one last pained glance over his shoulder at Roman and Patton. _Just my luck they’d be sitting together._ Virgil knew it the minute he felt that familiar tingling sensation on his arm. After having it happen twice before –the second time in the very same DAY no less— he recognized it as a new soul-thought tattoo, and Virgil had a pretty good guess who it was.

 _Great. Three guys to worry about now_ , he thought. _I am so screwed._

* * * * * 

Virgil had always been an anxiety riddle mess, and a little bit ADHD on top of that. Not a fun combo. Which is why he would always be grateful to his dad, a former MMA fighter, for talking him into trying out for sports. Any sport. He didn’t even have to stick with it for longer than a week if Virgil really hated it, his dad promised. He just had to keep an open mind about it and try.

He did, and miracle of miracles, scrawny little Virge ended up not only being good at sports but also loving them. What he lacked in physical strength at first, he made up for with speed and endurance. Then puberty hit, he got taller and he actually started building up some lean muscles; a featherweight, his dad called him. Flight _and_ fight. 

When his body was in motion, energy focused on the task at hand, it was the only time Virgil truly felt present. It gave his nervous energy a positive outlet, helped him feel strong instead of weak. Yeah, no amount of running, swimming, or tackles could fix his insomnia. And off the field he was still awkward, fidgety, and constantly thinking _‘does everyone hate me or do I just need to go to sleep?’_ But hey, at least he was about as well adjusted as a guy with mental health issues could be.

Most of all, he was no longer seen as a target.

 

The shriek of a whistle filled the school’s pool. Boys in speedos came out of the water dripping, and Virgil stepped forward with his lineup for their rounds. He made sure his goggles were secure and that his breathing was controlled.

 “Five laps each. Lets start with butterfly strokes!” Coach Nate shouted before blowing the whistle.

SPLASH. The cool pool water felt amazing against the burn of his working muscles. His legs were on fire and his chest felt like a hot air balloon. It was somehow the total opposite of a panic attack where he felt like he was slowly suffocating. Instead, Virgil felt alive.

“Watch those arms Dormier! Keep that pace up Tember!” Coach Nate shouted.

Virgil wouldn’t exactly call his teammates friends. More like people he worked alongside. To be fair they weren’t _all_ bad, just ignorant or assholes, or ignorant assholes. Still, being part of a pack gave Virgil a shield. As long as he kept helping their school win trophies, he one of them. He was safe. Though they’d probably turn on him the second they found out he was gay.

Except for Remy, but that was different. They’d been friends/neighbors since childhood, and while Remy _could_ be a sassy bitch he wasn’t a douche bag. He was also the only person Virgil told about his sexuality, and that was mostly because they both played for the same team. Well, the other kind. 

Coach Nate blew the whistle. Virgil hung off the pool edge to catch his breath while he could. 

“Nice hustle out there! Now give me five laps of backstrokes, GO!”

As Virgil swam he couldn’t help thinking about his soulmates. The tattoos were lined up one on top of the other in Sky Blue, Navy and Crimson Red. Complimentary colors, as his mom would say. Three very different boys that Virgil hardly knew, yet his heart already felt fluttery when he thought of them.

“Breath strokes, GO!”

Honestly, it wasn’t even like the whole school was homophobic. Most people really didn’t give a damn about it, and same sex soulmates weren’t uncommon. More than one, maybe, but even that wasn’t totally unheard of. Still, it was a small town and the thought of everyone knowing he was gay made Virgil feel like he was back to being that scrawny anxious mess who used to get pushed around all the time back in middle school for being so jumpy and sensitive and loving art and Disney films. 

Truth is, Virgil was a coward. And he hated himself for it.

“LAST LAP!”

Virgil channeled his anxieties and frustrations out of his body. He shot through the water like a lightning bolt past the others, until he was touching concrete. He heard the whistle; end of practice. Virgil took steady even breaths as he climbed out the pool, forcing his heart rate to slow down like his dad taught him.

“Great practice everyone, that’s it for today. Hit the showers. Hey,” Coach Nate clapped Virgil on the shoulder, “nice hustle out there Stormcloud.”

“Thanks Coach,” said Virgil. It was a little embarrassing being singled out, but Virgil couldn’t help smiling at the nickname he’d earned over the years. 

“You really ought to give more thought to trying out for varsity,” said Coach Nate. “You’d be my star athlete easy.” 

“Eeehh maybe I’ll think about it closer to senior year,” he said, grabbing his towel and yanking off his swim cap. “Once college recruiters start looking.”

_Sports, love ‘em. Being in the spot light, hate it. Too much pressure. Noooo._

“Should’ve figured, since you said the same after wrestling season freshman year. And track last season.” Coach shrugged. “Well, suit yourself. Just don’t put it off too late in case you change your mind.”

Coach Nate gave Virgil a head ruffle before walking away. He stopped to pep talk others on the team. Virgil shook the bangs out of his eyes and smiled, proud to be apart of such a hardworking team, even if they were idiots sometimes.

A sudden weight draped itself around Virgil’s shoulder. The muscular arm belonged to Seb, and Virgil had to fight the urge not to flinch or shrug him off. 

“He’s one to talk about being late for things,” said Seb with a crooked grin. “When was the last time you saw Coach on time to anything?”

“Probably the only time he isn’t late is Taco Tuesdays,” said Virgil.

They both laughed and headed towards the boys locker room with everyone else. Virgil badly wanted to wash off the pool chemicals. All those jokes people made about gay guys in the boys locker rooms? Total bullshit. Being gay and a teenage boy didn’t mean you were going to try sneaking a peek at every man’s junk any chance you got. He hopped into one of the showers with his flip-flops on. The hot water washed away the thick scent of chlorine, steam curled around him, and his tired muscles relaxed.

He held up his arm, fingers gently stroking over the sky blue letters of his first soulmate. Virgil smiled as he read them over again for the hundredth time:

_‘You’re lonely too, aren’t you kiddo?’_

It happened during English Lit last semester. The kid who sat behind him—Patton something—had dropped his pen and it rolled to his foot. When Virgil turned around to give it back, he really noticed Patton for the first time. Saw the cutest freckled face and the most soulful sky blue eyes hidden behind curly bangs. A few minutes later his arm got all tingly, and next thing he knew there was a soulmark. He’d never felt so happy! The next day, when he was passing out worksheets, Virgil caught a glimpse of purple letters that read _‘Woah his ey-‘_ on Patton’s wrist just before it was covered again by his sleeve.

Patton wasn’t popular, wasn’t in any clubs that Virgil knew of, and at first glance was a bit spooky (which he actually kind of dug). Yet this ghost of a boy took one look at Virgil and saw into the most hidden part of his soul, empathized with it even…Virgil fell hard and fast, admiring Patton Hart from afar ever since. 

_A lot of good that does me if I can’t even talk to the guy._

He shut the shower off, shaking his head of the water and love struck thoughts. Virgil quickly towel dried off and got his bottoms on before stepping out. The others were toweling off, dressing or shoving each other around good-naturedly. The usual.

“Did you guys get a load of that sweater vest the prince of drama geeks was wearing during lunch?” Seb asked. “Like the gay love child of Urkel and Cosby. And the look on his face when we fried him was priceless!”

Everyone else laughed and put in their two-cent jibes. Remy rolled his eyes and Virgil just kept his head low. 

As an athlete, Virgil respected Seb. The guy was dedicated and a decent leader. As a person, well, Seb Tember was the biggest homophobic bullying piece of dumpster shit this side of the equator. But he was also bigger and stronger than Virgil.

_You really do have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair, dontcha’ Virge._

He sighed, glancing sadly down at the thoughts written in red on his skin:

_‘Oh gosh, Virgil Alighieri is staring at me, oh please don’t want to beat my face up!’_

Virgil didn’t know much about Roman Prince aside from two things: His name was always in the playbills of the drama club’s fall and spring shows—he appreciated good theater; blame his art teacher mom—and he was the favorite target of his teammate’s antics. Since Virgil never joined in on their jibes but was so ashamed at being a bystander, he tried to avoid looking Roman in the eye.

But then he had to go and sit with Patton at lunch; which got him curious, which made him look over at their table, which meant he saw his face and…well, yeah, at first you wouldn’t think much of him. But the closer you looked the more you noticed the olive skin, soft waves of hair, strong jaw line and perfectly shaped lips. Like a shorter Prince Phillip with oversized red glasses. Who the hell would’ve thought the drama kid with a fashion sense louder than a blow-horn would be so goddamn handsome?!

 _And apparently scared of me. Not that I blame him._  

“Alright you sweat heads, I’m out of here,” he heard Jericho shout.

“That was fast,” said Virgil, slipping on an old band T-shirt. “Too bad you can’t make record time like that in the pool.”

“What can I say? I got a hot date with my lady love,” Jericho said with a grin. “And she does _not_ like me being late.”

“Pff dude, Apolla has got you so whipped,” Seb said, snapping a towel whip at his leg. Everyone in the locker room laughed. 

“Real funny guys. Just wait till you find your soul mates,” said Jericho. “You’ll get it.” 

Virgil said bye with a small salute, chuckling at Jericho’s moon struck face. To be fair, Apolla was pretty cool, and smart too. Hard to believe those two were soulmates. Then again, he never would’ve dreamed that Logan Berry of all people would be one of his soulmates. Virgil sighed, reading the words in blue before his jacket sleeve hid them again:

_‘Not the most eloquent guy, but at least he has some manners.’_

He’d never met Logan in person. They hadn’t had any classes together so far, and he was on the brainier end of the social spectrum. Still, info spread fast in high school. Virgil heard plenty of talk about the boy genius that dominated in school debate meets, talked back to bigoted teachers, and dressed in feminine clothes. It was hard not to admire someone with the balls to be that much himself and not give a shit what anyone else thought, even if just by reputation.

So when he finally crossed paths with the pastel clad brain in person, saw how he carried himself with so much dignity in the face of a bunch of jocks while looking incredible in sensible low heels, that was it for Virgil.

_And he thinks I’m a polite idiot at best. Not that he’s wrong._

“You know all that brooding will give you a headache gurl.” Remy slid over to him, towel draped around his bare shoulders and swimming goggles switched out for his signature sunglasses.

“And all that coffee you drink will give you the jitters,” said Virgil. 

“Jokes on you babe I’ve built an immunity.” Remy grabbed a white T-shirt and jeans from his locker to change into. “So what’s got you so stuck in your head? And I mean more than usual, which for _you_ is _definitely_ saying something.”

“Just stuff.”

“Imma need more than that.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Mhm. Last I checked, worrying about your soulmate, or _mates_ in your case, doesn’t fall under the very large category of stupid things.”

“How did you—“

“Please. You’ve been sneaking glances at the writing on your arm all day. Don’t think I didn’t notice those two new ones either. You think I don’t pay attention?”

Actually, for all his nonchalant attitude, Remy _was_ pretty smart and super observant. To the point where it was almost scary, especially when it came to people. Sometimes Virgil wondered if those sunglasses weren’t just for his sensitivity to light but also to hide just how much he saw.

“Fine. Yeah. I got them earlier on my way to Geometry, then at the end of lunch.”

“Aaaand do we know who these new cuties are?”

“I have solid suspicions.”

“Let me guess, you’re _still_ not going to do anything about it.” 

“Remy…” 

“I’m just saying, it’s been months since your first soul mate showed up, and you _still_ haven’t told me who he/she/they are _or_ gone after them. That’s a lot of action wasted my jittery little stormcloud.”

“Remind me again why I’m friends with you?”

“Look V, I get if you’re worried you won’t like them. Valid mood. Hardly anyone ever hits it off with their soul mate right out the gate.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, because I’m charming as fuck.” 

“Oh, is that what you call having your first thought about your soul mate that’ll be tattooed on his skin forever being: _‘wouldn’t mind shotgunning a drag out of that mouth’_? Real great first impression.”

“And all I got in return was _‘Bitch_.’ Not even boss-ass bitch or sexy bitch. Just bitch.” That got a snort out of Virgil. “But when I went over to give that stoner a piece of my mind, he had the best comeback: _‘Well get over here and shotgun it then.’_ Bam! Instant connection.”

“A love story for the ages,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“My point is, even if you don’t like them at first I guarantee you will once you get to know ‘em. That’s how the whole soul mate thing works.”

“Its not that I’m worried I won’t like them. Hell I—” he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I already do.”

“Oh this is just precious. Our little Virge has a threeway crush.”

“Don’t say it like that,” he blushed.

“So what’s the probs?”

“The ‘probs’ is that I know they’ll hate me!”

Virgil slammed his locker shut. _Shit. That was way louder than I meant._ God, why’d he have to be such a walking disaster? Standing? Argh, whatever! Luckily it seemed like the rest of the team already ducked out.

“Look,” he said, “I know my _status_ or whatever gives me clout at this school, which means people leave me alone, and that great. But I also know it makes me intimidating to anyone else that isn’t what everyone would call top of the food chain. And I could give a shit about all that, but most of high school does.”

“Truuuue, but maybe whoever these three are wont.” 

“Oh yeah? One of my soulmates thinks I’m a polite idiot and another thinks I’d punch him in the face.”

“ _Him_?” Remy asked, eyebrow arched over his glasses and mouth set to that cheeky grin of his. “And the plot thickens.”

“ _Remy_ ,” Virgil hissed. 

“Tabling that for later. Continue.”

“The second I talk to one of my soul mates, they’re either gonna see me as some letterman clad gorilla, or worse they’ll try to give me their lunch money before running the other way. And that’s not even counting what the guys might do to them if they found out, which’d give my soulmates even MORE reason to hate me, and I wouldn’t blame them. I’d hate me too if I were in their shoes!” 

He thunked his head back on the cold metal and rubbed at his eyes. Shit. It was too damn hot in here.

“Hey, you good?” Remy asked, gently placing a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “Virge, deep breaths babe.”

Virgil nodded and took a breath to calm down before a full-blown anxiety attack got the jump on him. _Breathe Virgil. Just breathe. Remember how dad taught you._ In for eight slow counts and then out, nice and controlled. 

Virgil breathed and nodded to his friend. “All good.”

“Come on, let’s blow this sausage shop.”

“Was that on purpose?”

“ _Maaaaybe_.”

They finished getting their bags packed and left the locker room. The halls were virtually empty. Only people left in the building were the principle, janitor, and the students occupied with their own afterschool clubs behind closed classroom doors. Virgil always liked the near silence of the hallways after school hours. It felt way less claustrophobic without the mass of students and teachers. There were no overhanging academic or social pressures. Only the freeing echo of possibility for what lay beyond those doors once he graduated. 

“Let me break it down for you gurl,” said Remy. “One, you are hardly a gorilla with your bony ass.” 

“Shut up, Rem. You know I’m self conscious about that,” he mumbled. Even with the lean muscles from all the sports, he still looked like a gangly plucked chicken beneath his bulky jacket.

“And two, everyone knows the worst impressions are always the first. After that it’s a straight—or as straight as we can get—dash. But like Coach Nate is always telling us, you won’t get to that finish line unless you jump the first hurtle. It’s a fortune cookie cliché but true. And if after all that they still don’t like you, then screw ‘em. But not in the fun way.”

While he appreciated his friend’s advice, it wasn’t so easy for Virgil to not give a damn about what people thought. He wasn’t brave like that.

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks man.”

“Anytime. I’ll just add it to your tab.”

Virgil chuckled. “You need a ride home?”

“Nah I’m good. Supposed to meet up with Declan behind the bleachers in a few.” Remy pulled out a thermos from his backpack, no doubt filled with coffee.

“Guess Jericho’s not the only one that has a hot date tonight.”

“Yep. Gonna watch some Buzzfeed Unsolved at his place. Probably make out on his couch. Maybe take a roll on his joint,” Remy winked. 

“Dude, do you have any shame?” asked Virgil.

“Nope.” Remy drank from his thermos. “Later babes.”

Virgil shook his head with a smile as he watched Remy saunter off, until he was alone in the halls, shifting from one foot to the other. He wished he had half that confidence to be so out and proud. What must it be like to be that happy with the person you liked that likes you back? To be with the person (or people) that you were fated to grow and share the best and worst moments in life with, who knew and accepted you in spite of all flaws and first impressions?

He wanted that. He wanted to know what it was like to be so openly seen for who he was and still feel wanted.

"Excuse me," said an unmistakably formal yet smooth voice that sent a tremble up his spine, "What are _you_ doing in the halls after school hours?"

Virgil turned around and saw none other than Logan, holding a binder and giving him the most scrutinizing of stares that somehow made his face go hot. He gulped.  _Oh shit._


	5. Chapter 5 - POV Logan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill by now. Your patience has been appreciated and now i come bearing a doosy of a chapter! This is perhaps my longest one yet, which is funny since Logan's first POV chapter was so short! XD Anywho, buckle up kiddos!

 

 _Ahh, another riveting debate meeting_ , Logan thought as he gathered his bulleted notes into a binder covered in his favorite constellations. Since the appearance of his newest soulmark earlier that day, the whirl of academics had kept Logan’s thoughts pleasantly occupied. After school debate club has also been a welcome distraction. Admittedly though he hadn’t been able to resist sneaking peaks at the writing on his arm from time to time. Now that his activities were done with, his mind was back to the conundrum that had sullied his mood earlier in the day: he was bonded with one of those meathead athletes. 

There had only been four of them at the time, so it wouldn’t be too hard to narrow down who it could have been. Figuring that out wasn’t the problem. No, Logan’s problem was what he’d do once he did find them. Firstly, on a logistical level, Logan already had one additional soulmate, and there was a chance one or both of his soulmates might not be open to a polyamorous situation such as this. Not that he himself had an issue with polyamory per se. Being raised by two moms certainly helped to broaden his views of relationships. Still it was a factor worth taking into consideration. 

Secondly, on a more personal and currently pressing level, he had no way of knowing for sure how he himself would feel about this new soulmate. Would he get along with the mystery athlete? How might they react to him? With shame or disgust or mockery? Not that Logan felt ashamed of whom he was…Still, Logan couldn’t deny that the thought of being rejected by someone who was meant to be his soulmate, a companion who would always stand by his side, left him with feelings that were…less than pleasant and far too mixed up.

It was a classic Schrodinger’s Cat conundrum. Schrodinger’s Soulmate.

He sighed, clutching his binder to his chest. _Why can’t people work the same way as puzzles, or an equation? Those are far easier to solve than emotions or people._

He was on his way out the school building, knowing that his mother would be would be waiting for him outside soon. When he turned the corner down the entrance hall there was someone else standing there too. And he was wearing one of the school’s blue and white letterman jackets. Well he shouldn’t still be loitering on the premises after class and club hours. Athlete or not, no student got away with breaking the rules on his watch.

“Excuse me, what are _you_ doing in the halls after school hours?” Logan asked, calling out to the student.

The figure in front of him stiffened and then slowly turned around. Logan couldn’t help but bristle a little bit when he saw that it was Virgil, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Logan! I uh, sorry,” said Virgil. “I was just—swim practice—lagged behind in the locker rooms a bit—I was just…heading home. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stand out here like an idiot.”

It was odd. Normally the jocks all traveled in a pack, but Virgil was completely alone.

And seeing the lanky athlete standing there without his muscle-headed teammates surrounding him, slightly hunched and fumbling for the right words to say, he seemed so much more vulnerable now. Though he didn’t understand what or why, it softened something within him.

“Well, I suppose that is an adequate explanation,” he said. “I myself am just on my way out from a debate club meeting. Though I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about that.” 

“Only that you’re the reason our school’s got all those debate team trophies in the glass cabinet.” Virgil said. Nothing in his voice betrayed any sort of mockery. 

“While it is accurate that our club has garnered higher acclaim in the regional standings than in past years, I cannot take all the credit. Each member of our team contributes their own sharp analytics and skill,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses.

“Yeah, I can relate to that. It’s the same way I feel about my teams,” said Virgil, fidgeting with his sleeve. “I’m just one small cog in a bigger machine made up of some real hard working pieces.”

Huh. Not the string of self-indulgent boasts he was expecting. Rather a humble disposition actually. 

“Although, from what I hear you’re pretty extra.” Virgil blanched, his next words tumbling out clumsily. “Not _bad_ extra! Extra like _smart_. Like pretty brilliant. And pretty _pretty_ too. No! I mean—that wasn’t—I’m not—I’m just gonna shut up now.”

The compliment towards his looks brought a heat to Logan’s cheeks that he wasn’t sure he hated. _Well at least I can infer he may not be 100% straight. Then again who is really?_

“On the contrary, albeit it was a tad clumsy, your compliment is…appreciated,” Logan said, tucking back a strand of hair that had escaped from his clip.

This elicited a soft smile from Virgil, which cast him in a rather sweet light. Yet another thing Logan would not have expected. 

“Thanks. I know I’m not the most eloquent guy around.” That struck a familiar chord with Logan. “I take it you’re on your way out?” 

“Indeed. My mother should be here to pick me up soon.” 

“Since we’re going the same way anyhow, mind if I walk with you?” asked Virgil, head tucked in a way that Logan could only equate to a cute turtle.

Logan coughed. “I’m not opposed to it.”

“Cool,” said Virgil, making an _after you_ gesture. 

They walked out the school building together. Still no sign of his Mother’s SUV with the feminist symbol bumper sticker. She must be caught in traffic. Either that or there was another spill at the chemistry lab she worked at delaying her. Hopefully not the latter. 

“You’re not going to your car?” Logan asked.

“Don’t have one. My Entle Joan is picking me up today, since my folks are out of town,” said Virgil.

“I see. Have you not taken your permits test yet this year then?”

“No, I got my license last year. Mom thought it’d be better I know how to drive sooner, in case there’s ever an emergency or something. It’s just I don’t _like_ driving unless I really have to. Heightens my anxiety too much. I know, pretty pathetic.” 

“Falsehood. Taking into account your mental health and well being is far more important than showing off ownership of a car to your peers, as well as admirable. Not pathetic in the least.”

“Thanks L,” said Virgil. 

There was that soft smile again, causing a flutter in Logan’s chest that he almost didn’t want to suppress. As did the nickname that he didn’t hate. This athletic boy was different from the others, in a way that he hadn’t been as readily able to see while among his figurative pack. _Or perhaps, was not willing to see_.

Well, he supposed there was nothing else for it. Time to open the figurative Schrodinger box. 

He cleared his throat. “Virgil.”

“Yeah?” Virgil asked almost eagerly.

“I suppose I’ll just cut to the chase as they say.” Logan didn’t know why he felt nervous all of a sudden, but he pushed the feeling down. “Earlier today after you helped me pick up my books, I acquired a new soulmark. Did you as well?” 

Logan saw Virgil’s eyes go wide. He looked about ready to run away, but to his credit the anxious teen stayed where he was and nodded. Then, with a shaky hand, he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and showed Logan his— _Oh. He has more than one as well: light blue, dark blue, red. Fascinating!_ Logan would have to table that new factor for later contemplation, but for now, the dark blue letters of his first thoughts upon seeing Virgil were enough to show him that, yes, Virgil ‘Stormcloud’ Alighieri was one of his soulmates.

And to his surprise…Logan didn’t hate that.

“Then it would seem,” Logan unbuttoned his own blouse sleeve to show his own purple and light blue tattoos, “we have much to discuss Virgil.”

He didn’t fail to catch the look of shock on Virgil’s face at seeing he also had more than one soulmate. Yet judging by the upward corner quirk of his lips he wasn’t upset about it. This set Logan far more at ease.

“Guess so.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders hunched once again. “Maybe we could talk about it some more tomorrow during lunch, or something?”

He seemed sincere enough, and it wasn’t as if they could do nothing now that they knew they were each other’s soulmate. Logan wanted more time to think on it, but he could see his Mother’s car coming up to the school. So Logan did something he normally never does: act on impulse.

“I’D LIKE THAT,” he said loudly. He brought his voice back down, blushing. “I mean: that is satisfactory. I believe we have different lunch periods on B schedule days, but if you’re available 5th Period, we may meet up during my study hall. Would the library be a sufficient place to meet?” 

“Yeah! I mean, yeah. That’s cool,” said Virgil, eyes bright behind the dark fringe that had fallen into his face. “So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed. Farewell.”

With that and a quick honk from the car, Logan left his newfound soulmate (well one of them anyway) on the school steps to wait for his own ride. Logan greeted his Mother as he squeezed into the passengers seat, avoiding knocking into his Mom’s latest antique purchases. The entire car ride home, Logan’s thoughts were occupied by soulmarks, a soft shy smirk and tired bright eyes, and the hopes that maybe, for once, he’d be proven wrong.

* * *

“So let me get this gay,” said Toby, making Logan’s eyes roll as he finished his egg salad sandwich. “You’ve got not one, but _two_ soulmates now, and one of them is Virgil Alighieri, a.k.a the school’s jack-of-all-trades athlete?”

“Correct.”

“And you actually agreed to a date with him?”

“I would hardly call it a date. We are merely getting together in the library to talk.”

“But you agreed to meet. With Virgil. An athlete. In a potentially romantic capacity?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Last question: are you an alien pod person? Seriously,” Toby lightly shook Logan by the shoulders. “What did you do with my brainy buddy ya little E.T.!?”

“Toby, enough!” Logan shoved Toby off, making her pronouns necklace jangle as she laughed. Logan couldn’t help laughing as well.

They were sitting on the field bleachers outside. Logan was catching his friend up on the events of the previous day while they ate lunch. It’s a habit they developed last year back when he was Toby’s math tutor. At first it was just for extra credit, but then he began to enjoy the other’s company and vice versa. Who would have thought that the hyperactive ginger haired cheerleader would turn out to be so personable? Plus, there weren’t many who shared in Logan’s appreciation for Eldritch lore and Gothic literature. This semester they only got to eat together on Tuesdays and Thursdays, since it was the only day of the week when they both had A Lunch period. Every other day of the week Logan was in B Lunch while Toby had cheer practice in place of Study Hall.   

Such an inconsistent scheduling template format in Logan’s opinion; much as he loved school, he’d be the first to say the education system was feces. 

“Well you can’t blame me for being shocked,” said Toby, tugging on a pierced ear. “Does he even play for our team? ‘Cause I certainly haven’t heard anything through the cheer squad’s gossip network.”

“A sports metaphor regarding an athlete? Bit on the nose for you.”

“I just had a quiz on _Pride & Prejudice _in Miss Valerie’s class, my brain is too tired to be more clever. Now answer the question.”

“Fair enough. He has not stated either way. However…he did call me…pretty.” Logan smiled in spite of himself.

“Well that’s promising at least.” Toby broke her big cookie in two and shared the other half with Logan. “Hang on, I thought you couldn’t stand the jocks at this school. And yeah, Virgil’s not a jerk, but you’ve seen the guys he hangs around with.”

Logan brushed cookie crumbs off of his pastel blue blouse. “I am well aware of all of those factors, but Virgil is…different.”

“Different good or different tolerable?” Toby asked, stretching her broad shoulders, uniform skirt pooling around her crossed stubbly legs.

“Not quite enough data yet for a definitive conclusion,” he said, “But thus far…good.”

“This isn’t just because he’s your soulmate right?” Toby asked leaning in. “Because you know that you don’t have to settle for someone just because you’re supposedly bonded to each other. I mean, maaaybe I’m talking from a high horse since I haven’t been saddled with a soulmark yet, but still.”

“No, you make a sound point, but this is not the case. I,” Logan fiddled with his star hairclip, “I genuinely believe there may be potential here, for an amicable acquaintance at least, if not something…more.”

“Logan Berry, have you caught the _feelings_ for someone?” Toby gasped. “I thought I’d have to sell my left tit before I lived to see the day!”

“I do not do _feelings_ Toby. They are illogical in excess and the bane of my existence.”

“Yeah, yeah Spock. Tell that to the blush on your face.”

Logan was about to tell his friend off when the distant chime of the period bells from the field speakers alerted them of the time.

“Much as I’d love to rebuke your falsehoods, I have to get to class,” he said.

“All right, all right. But I expect a full report later,” said Toby, grabbing her bat backpack. “I’m off to practice. Here’s hoping Magenta doesn’t go misgendering me again today.”

“She is a bitch that way,” said Logan, remembering the time he had to physically restrain Toby after Magenta had told them to just pick a pronoun and stick with it. 

“Yeah. I keep wondering if maybe I should grow my hair out again to help on the more feminine days, but short hair is  _soooo_ much easier to manage. Ah well. Remind me to research some hexes this weekend. Later!” 

Logan waved his friend goodbye and headed back to the main building. Two periods later he was sitting at a table in the corner of the library waiting on Virgil. He hadn’t let himself think of it as anything more than a casual meet up. That is until five minutes past without any sign of his soulmate. Logically he knew that five minutes tardiness was hardly a big deal and not everyone was a stickler for being on time…So why was he so fidgety all of a sudden, as well as perspiring? _Relax Logan, you are being ‘extra.’ There is no reason to suspect you’ve been stood up or are the victim of a prank by Seb’s ilk just because Virgil is a little late. I’m sure there is a rational explana—_

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” said a panting Virgil.

He suddenly popped out from around the Biology section, immediately being shushed by a nearby student. Logan let out a sigh of relief. Not that he was nervous. 

“I’m really sorry, I had to talk to Mr. Sanders about a make-up assignment, and then I had to tell the guys I wasn’t joining them for lunch, and I’m an idiot for not leaving myself extra time—“

“Virgil, relax.” _You’re one to talk Logan._ “Take a deep breath or else you’ll work yourself up into a panic. You’re here now, you are most certainly not an idiot, and I am pleased to see you.” _More than I would care to admit._

This seemed to reassure Virgil enough, and after a few calming breathes he sat down across from Logan. The phone in Logan’s skirt pocket buzzed. A quick text check read:

**Toby: How’s it going?**

Ordinarily he was against texting while in present company. It was just rude. However this was Toby. He knew how annoyingly persistent she could be:

**Logan: Too early to tell.**

“I uh, like your galaxy skirt,” said Virgil, picking at his cuticles.

“Thank you, I made it myself,” said Logan, smoothing out the soft fabric. “My Mom taught me how to sew. It’s a rather practical skill to have."

“Nice. Sounds like your mom and mine would get along. She's artsy too. But yeah, it looks really nice on you. Not that you don’t look nice in anything you wear. Because you do! I mean uh…”

 **Logan: If didn’t know better, I’d say he’s intimidated by me.**

**Toby: My disaster gay radar is tingling.**

**Logan: -__-**

“Uhhh speaking of stars, is that Sagitta on your binder?” Virgil pointed to one of the silver sharpie constellation drawings on his binder.

“You’re familiar with the constellation?” Logan asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah it’s my favorite. Most people go for the easy ones like Cassiopeia or Orion, but I always dug how Heracles used the arrow to help Prometheus, poor guy; not just to pass his trial.”

“I’m impressed, especially at your use of the proper Greek name for the famed hero. Nearly everyone just says Hercules, even though that is distinctly the Roman version of his name. I blame Disney.”

Virgil smirked. “Yeah. It’s a solid movie, but Disney went _waaaay_ off from its original source material.”

“Indeed,” Logan chuckled. 

Most of their study period went by with them going back and forth about astronomy and other common topics of interest. He was really starting to enjoy Virgil’s company, and his soulmate didn’t even seem to mind when Logan got caught up in one of his rants.

“I must admit, I wouldn’t have taken you as someone with an affinity for topics as academically inclined as astronomy. No offense.”

**Logan: He’s intelligent! And a surprisingly good listener.**

**Toby: Great! & his status?**

“None taken. Yeah, my mom’s big on astrology. Used to tell me the stories behind each constellation. I don’t believe in that stuff, but it did get me into space. There’s just something about it that makes all my own issues seem smaller somehow." 

“That a rather poetic way of thinking about it. Have you considered joining the school’s astronomy club?”

“Ehh it’s not really uh, my scene, I guess? I mean, I’m usually pretty busy with all the sports teams I’m on.” said Virgil. 

“Ah yes. Your athletic pursuits must take up much of your time.” Logan said curtly. 

**Logan: Still undetermined**

**Toby: Ugh! crack open his Necronomicon and read deeper damnit! gtg. break over. magenta still a btch XO**

Logan looked up to find Virgil staring at him. He coughed. “Apologies, that was a friend of mine asking about an…assignment.” 

“Yeah, no prob.”

Four silent and awkward minutes passed. Logan tapped his mechanical pencil against his binder, and Virgil’s foot tapped frantically.

“Sorry I’m so—“       

“May I ask—“

“You go first,” said Logan. 

“I just—Sorry I’m so nervous,” said Virgil. “This is the first time I’ve ever really tried approaching one of my soulmates.” 

“Then we are on even terrain in those regards. Despite evidently having more than one soulmate, of whom you are the first I’ve found, people skills are not exactly my strong suit.”

“To be honest, same.” Virgil sighed. “I _really_ don’t want to screw this up, but I guess I already have. I know you don’t exactly see me in the _best_ light.”

Virgil shrunk into himself, hand covering the arm with his soulthoughts hidden beneath the jacket sleeve. This softened Logan, who recalled the rather unkind thoughts he’d seen inked onto the other’s skin yesterday.

“On the contrary, it would seem I am at fault for perhaps judging you too harshly,” said Logan. “I do not have the highest opinion of jocks, nor the best experience, given how often I’ve been mocked for my dress and perceived sexuality.”

“Yeah, well, can’t blame you for that.” Virgil said. “Wait, so you’re not…”

“No I am. More accurately I identify as cis panromantic and grey-ace, although I may possibly be demisexual. I do not shout out my sexuality from the rooftops, but I don’t make a point of hiding who I am for the convenience of others either.”

“Yeah, I really admire that about you. I may be strong physically, but I’m nowhere near as brave.”

Logan blushed. “So then you are…?”

Virgil hesitated, leg bouncing severely. Then, he nodded yes. _He really is frightened._

“Thank you for entrusting me with this knowledge,” said Logan. “Your secret is safe with me. Though that does beg the question of where we go from here and what exactly you want from me.”

“I…” Virgil took a deep breath. Then, tentatively, he reached out to cover Logan’s hand with his own. The rough calloused hand felt cool against his skin. “I really like you Logan. And, I want to get to know you more. At whatever speed, in whatever capacity you’d let me.”

Now his face felt warm too. Curse that shy smile that neutralized rational thought. Yet Logan couldn’t deny how good Virgil’s hand on his felt, how comfortable he felt talking with him. “I...” 

All of a sudden Virgil went wide-eyed, looking over Logan’s shoulder. He quickly pulled back his hand and sat back in his chair in a way that looked forcibly casual. Logan was about to ask what was the matter, when an obnoxiously familiar voice answered his question.

“So THIS is where you’ve been hiding,” said Seb.

“I thought you said you had extra credit stuff to do for class,” said a blonde brute, ruffling Virgil’s hair.

“Knock it off Mike,” said Virgil, shoving him back.

“You skipped running laps with us to have a tea party here with the brainy queer?” Seb asked, leaning on the table so he loomed over Virgil. “I mean I know he _looks_ like a chick form behind, but come on Virge. You can’t seriously be into _that_.”

“No! It’s not like that! I um…”

Virgil refused to look at him. Logan’s lips pursed as his old defensive tendencies bubble up. _I should have known._

“Nothing of the sort.” Logan said curtly. “He merely needed notes about a homework assignment. And now that he has them, I will be leaving.”

He gathered his things and stood up, his chair making a loud screech. Then he turned about face so fast the hem of his skirt whirled around. His heels clacked loudly as he stalked across the floor out the door, yet they couldn’t drown out the whistle or laughs that followed. 

The period hadn’t ended yet, so the halls were empty still. A fact that Logan was glad of, since he didn’t feel like being made even more a fool of. Not because someone would’ve seen the way his eyes were watering. Logan was halfway across the hall when he felt a calloused hand catch his wrist.

“Logan please,” Virgil said, turning around so they were faced to face, his tall frame hunched, despite Logan’s heels giving him equal height.

“Won’t your friends wonder why you’re still talking to the queer? Or perhaps my nerdiness will rub off on you instead.”

“Just ignore them. They’re idiots.”

“I have been ignoring idiots like _them_ all my life Virgil,” Logan said, yanking his hand back. “Yet I didn’t think I’d have to with one of my _soulmates_. Foolish oversight on my part.” 

Virgil winced. “Can we just go somewhere else to talk?”

“Are you certain you’re fine being seen with me? I’m not exactly of the sort of social circles you associate with. And what of your other soulmates, or mine? Would you treat them the same way as you just treated me? With shame?”

"What? No! Of course not, I would never!"

"Evidence would suggest otherwise."

“I know, I know. I was an idiot back there. They just caught me off guard."

"Is that your best counterargument?"

"My teammates are assholes. And Seb is especially a dick. And I know this is cliché as hell, but I’m really not like the rest of those guys. Just give me a chance to prove it. _Please_.”

Logan wanted to believe him. He almost did. “Maybe you are different from them, but you’re no better. And I have far too much self-respect to be with someone who would not stand beside me with pride.”

“Logan, I…” Virgil looked down at his purple sneakers. That was answer enough.

“Come and find me again when you’re strong enough to be your truest self.”

Logan walked away with his head held high. He did not look back. He did not think about his strong, smart yet timid soulmate. He did not think about baggy bright eyes or soft smirks. He did not think about how natural it was talking with Virgil, or how he actually for a moment made Logan feel lovely. Because if he did, it would result in the most illogical and emotionally driven reaction that could occur:

He would cry.


End file.
